


Make Up Your Mind

by ashadowonthewall



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Bullying, F/F, One-Sided Relationship, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashadowonthewall/pseuds/ashadowonthewall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She doesn’t love you; you don’t even like each other...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Up Your Mind

  
[ ](http://s695.photobucket.com/albums/vv317/mrjdt/Minky%20Fic%20Two/?action=view&current=tumblr_lhcyi2jjQF1qh7a1to1_500.jpg)

_So won't you just sympathize with me?_  
And all the things I do to make you angry with me  
What's wrong with me today?  
You say; I leave you all alone  
Every time you call me  
As if you needed reason to fall down  
I know this must be hard for you to understand  
And all this waiting takes too long for me  
Make up your mind  
 **\- Lyrics from Orgy’s “Make Up Your Mind”**  


\--

She doesn't love you; you don't even like each other.

Well…you like her, you’re pretty certain of that. But she doesn’t like you very much, at least that’s the impression you get from Franky, every time you speak to her. 

The last words she said to you were, about trying to prove to everyone that you’re not a complete bitch, or something along those lines. You can’t remember the exact words, but you remember how it made you feel.

You’re not a bitch; you’re sick of everyone treating you like one. You can be nice; you’ve proven it many a time before. You danced with that loser farm boy Alo at his party and you cheered him up when he was feeling like shit, so that’s progress. 

You’re not even going to try to fix things with Liv and Grace because as far as you’re concerned those bitches can go fuck themselves, and they were the ones who turned their backs on you in the first place. Liv has that weird boy Matty, and Grace is with Rich, who hates you. Though given what you’ve heard of him, there’s hardly anything he doesn’t hate; angsty prick.

You’re not with Nick anymore, nor do you intend to speak to him ever again. He’s an arrogant fuck, and he screwed your best mate behind your back. No amount of apologizing will ever change that. He wasn’t even all that good in bed. 

For the few nights after he took your virginity, you’ve had the same boring, monotonous sex almost every week up until the point where the two of you broke up. There was something not quite right about the thrust…or something, you couldn’t even tell. Most of the time you’d be on top, faking it until he came and was satisfied and done with, the both of you collapsing on the bed, Nick falling asleep not long after.

There’s more to it than that, you just know it. And you’re done with him now, so you’re free to explore, free to find someone who’ll appreciate you and won’t fuck someone behind your back when you’re not looking.

\--

You’re out about town during the late afternoon after you’ve just snuck out of your mother’s room, stealing a bottle of vodka she kept hidden under the drawers. You don’t know why you took it, only that you’re feeling like shit because Franky’s words are coming back to you…and not just what she said to you the other day; everything. You want to take a long walk because it’s the only way you can deal with things.

You want to call someone, hang out with a few people but you don’t know who to call anymore. Gracey would be too busy with her fucking boyfriend and you don’t want to spend any time with him. And you’d die before you end up calling Liv or Nick.

It’s back to being alone for you, and the feeling is so unfamiliar it’s actually frightening. 

And as you walk on and on until you find yourself at a park with swings, a park you recognise from your childhood, you take long sips of the bottle, feeling the burn in your chest every time you do and you’re still thinking about Franky even then. 

You’re not a drinker, and you don’t know how anyone can even enjoy that shit, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s not meant to be enjoyed, just endured, or the fact that it makes your head spin like nothing else is the appeal. Either way you don’t care because having your senses numbed by alcohol is a lot less stressful than having to feel something, and that’s what you like about it most.

\--

A few hours later and it’s getting dark. You’re standing outside Franky’s house and you feel like slapping yourself. Of all the places you could have ended up you had to walk all the way to her place, and for what? You know she dislikes you, she might even hate you, but you don’t hate her, and you need her to know that.

It really is getting late, and you know she’ll be pissed off at you for waking her up, but you keep throwing little rocks at her window, hoping she’ll come out to greet you. You know she’ll be angry, but you don’t give a fuck. You want her to hear what you have to say.

The light switches on, and you can see a shadow stepping out of bed, walking toward the blinds and pulling them open. It’s Franky; she recognizes you just as quickly as you recognize her, and she doesn’t have a happy look on her face. She stands there for a moment, and you wave dumbly at her direction, hoping she’ll wave back; she doesn’t.

Franky disappears for a moment, and you know she’ll be going downstairs. Your heart beats faster because you know you’ll be tongue tied by the time she gets to the door. It doesn’t help that you’re pissed off your fucking head. 

The door opens and she steps out, walking slowly toward you.

“Mini what the fuck?” she starts. “Why are you here? Do you realize how late it is? And you’re fucking drunk, what the hell?” 

“I…I…needed…” you start, the words get caught in your throat and you feel so nervous then you just want to puke.

“I just needed you to know…that I’m not a bitch, okay? I’m fucking sorry Franks…what I said back there, I meant…I just…I want to…”

You reach out your hand and move closer toward her, you know you’re waving a white flag then, and you know that she could easily tell you off but you don’t care. Somehow the alcohol is giving you confidence, as it always does. Even though it makes your stomach turn like nothing else. 

She slaps your hand away; you’re taken aback by how quick she is.

“Who do you think you are?” she says angrily. “You think you can just come back here and act like everything’s okay after what you did.”

“Franks…” you reach out again, and she slaps your hand away even harder.

“Don’t touch me. If you try and touch me one more time, and I’ll hit you, I swear I will,” she says and it’s then that you stop, standing there looking like some wounded puppy while her eyes continue to look you down. You’ve never felt that way before; you’ve never felt so hopeless, so worthless and so fucking small compared to someone. You’ve always made others feel smaller than you.

“Go home, Mini,” she tells you, her eyes continue to stare down at you. “Go home and sober up, and then come back here and tell me you want to be friends. We’ll see if you’re so brave then.”

She walks back into the home before you even have time to say a word. You feel like your insides are crushed. Franky’s words are tearing at your heart, stomach and lungs and all you want to do is bury your head in the dirt from embarrassment.

\--

You’re stumbling as you walk back home, slowly, step-by-step until you come to the curb and flop down on the pavement, dropping your bottle on the cement, hearing the chink of the glass as the barely left over contents start spilling out across your shoes.

You don’t know what you expected then, but it wasn’t that. You feel so stupid because you know that Franky wouldn’t just forgive you so easily but you believed so strongly that she would. 

Turns out she likes you even less than you thought she did, and it cuts you deep to think about it.

You feel a massive headache coming on and you palm your face in your hands. It’s going to be a very long night; you can feel it because you don’t feel like going home.

The worse part is that you’ll have to see her again, and she’ll remember everything that happened tonight. You’re hoping, that if she can’t at least forgive, then maybe she can forget, and pretend like it never happened and won’t hold it against you the next time you see each other.

You can only hope.


End file.
